Bethlehem Central High School - Oriole Yearbook (Delmar, NY)

Page 30 text:

earning the daily loaf, and patient Buster Jones who tends his little green eyed monster while Janet kicks up her heels in the theatre. There, too, is Mary Ellen Conklin shaking her long hair and swaying along behind a carriage holding little Calvin. Big Calvin is trailing behind his wife holding a bottle and looking worried. We greet them all and admire the little ones. At the sound of music, we enter the build- ing labeled 'Tine Artsf, Sinking down in big, plush chairs, we relax to the wonder of the piano, violin, and trumpet while Maestro Crain strums delicately the strains of a Hungarian Rhapsody, finally ending in G'You,re Gonna Lose Your Babyn as the house thunders its encore. In a far corner we see .loyce Manley sound asleep, but automatically pounding our old school march, Connie Conroe waving her baton at an imaginary audience to the beat of our Alma Mater. Peggy Smith saws with in- finite grace on a violin, while Laura Furbeck, Helen Wagner, Lois Piper and Peggy Le Fevre go mad trying to arrange an accompaniment for their grand opening at the Metropolitan, they all work patiently at the key board, ig- noring Peggy, who bounces about and refuses to sit and quietly concentrate. .lust as we are dozing off, soothed to sleep by the harmonious cacaphony of sound, in glides the famous Poweris model, Rosy Hill, wearing black net, filmy and sheer. She poses for our inspection and wanders away. We ap- plaud vigorously. Thoroughly aroused, our interest is taken by a section of the hall heretofore unnoticed. Large and airy, it is covered with easels, sketches and draperies. We are told by a very industrious damsel, Doris Edgecumbe, that this is the artist's department Where the designing and painting are done. Edgie, an interior decorator, shows us the plans that she and Elsa Kelp are doing. It is a dining room in green and violet for a rich bachelor. ult is meant, they explain with bashful grins, 'cto induce a feeling for comradeshipf' As we back away in wonder we stumble over an impres- sive bust of a half-clothed woman and leap skyward at the chorus of shrieks that issues from a group of industrious workers. Priscilla Alden ll rescues us from a tangle of material and redrapes the model to show us her latest creation. Dede Wynkoop and Cora Louth crowd up and help explain, with mouthfuls of pins, that it is a ball gown for the current debutante, Miss .leanne Keyser, who is com- ing out that Friday. Bunny Barnard, famous illustrator and artist, runs up with a drawing -L 26 of Jeanne. And, after we dully admire this sketch we make a quick exit in search of more friends. There must be a meeting place-a four corners where the young of heart still congre- gate. And so we accost the first person we see -Claire Hand. She grabs us and drags us over to a drug store explaining in her pic- turesque vocabulary about her nursing expe- riences and boy friends. Egadl What a gang! The air is dense with smoke and noise, but we wade in and scream a cheery 'LHellol Merle Elmendorf is perched in front of a mirror busily cutting her hair, which has grown more than three inches and needs cutting badly, Ruth Hafley is making sketches on the corner of a speech she is preparing denouncing men, wine and dancing, we see Ruth Killough prac- ticing basketball throws in pantomime for her gym class, Ginnie McCormick refighting the Civil War and freeing the slaves as she happily pounds Rodger Fryer,s broad shoulders. fThis is Bodgergs off duty hour.D Jeannie Bennett is sceaming over the din at nobody in general. It all amounts to a family quarrel that took place last night with the maestro. We sym- pathize and glance about. At a table, Mary Alyce Cronk pours over her column for the Daily Double-the town,s newspaper. And Jimmy Montgomery, a prosperous saloon keeper, leers over a big, black cigar at petite Eleanor Long who clings frantically to Brud Boutelle for protection. Then in swaggers Charlie Windhovel carrying a beautiful load, greeting us all in a soft, southern drawl. Franny Ardizone breaks the monotony by go- ing into her routine with a hop, kick and wiggle. She is rewarded by the flashing smile of Eddy Bukwid, a current movie hero. The air is too dense and the noise too fre- quent, so we wade out into the fresh, cool air and bright sunlight. --..,. A A . -5 At the sound of polite laughter and a slight lConlinued on page 281 il. ..

Page 29 text:

Prophecy of the Class of 742 THE night is very still and quiet. All the land lies silent under the mystery of darkness. Above, the skies shine with a sprinkling of bright stars, and in the distance katydids chirp to the soft stir of night animals and birds. It is a good time to rest and think and perhaps to dream a little. In the small hours, imagination comes to life as the body sinks down into slumber. It kindles fire and bursts into all the fine and beautiful things that men would like to do, say and be. Let us recline on a soft bank of green grass. Let us look up at the starsg and perhaps one of them will change into a new, a perfect world for us. Then if we close our eyes and wish, this world may become real, and we may find ourself walking up, up into the night, to the very gates of a new land. Since it is make- believe, we can have it as near to the veritable fairy-land as the one about which we have all dreamed. It can be Utopia: Shangri-La. It can house all our hopes and ambitions, all our wishes come true. ln the back of our minds, we have always desired the wonder of achiev- ing success-complete happiness. Let us make this star-world a place in which all of the things come true that we've always wanted. Here, we shall do what we want to do, say what we want to say. Weill be actors and actresses, poets, musicians, painters, writers, all of great renown. Shall we create this world-this fantasy come true, a place of warmth and sunshine and granted wishes? Then come with me, and we shall explore it together-this lllusaland. As though by magic, we find ourselves standing on a broad highway directly facing an impressive structure. It is a gate to be sure -not pearly though, but made of opalescent glass, with a slide window resembling those of the speak-easies before the repeal of the 18th amendment. Knock once, twice, thrice and the slot slides open and out pops a head. The face is familiar. Who could it be? Then the mist of forgetfullness lifts and we connect it with a voice, a soft melodious bass-Rodger Fryer! With a Step right up folks, make yourself at homelw The gate swings open and we are inside. Our first impression is one of much activity, with many people busy at tasks of great im- portance. The highway stretches out into an endless ribbon in the distance, dotted on each side with buildings, fields and side streets. Our self-appointed guide growls his delight at our unexpected company, and proposes to show us about. We conveniently lose ourselves in a crowd of people and set out alone to see what's what. Everyone seems more or less headed in one direction, so we tag along, and soon enter a large building, the executive department of this country. President Burgess is finishing an address to the chamber with a fine oratorical flourish and relinquishes the floor to the pes- simistic grueling of Congressman Douglas Rook, who makes an involved discourse on the coming down-fall of democracies and the pos- sibilities of war. ltas too early in the morning for this, so out we go again. Racing pell-mell up the street comes a caval- cade of beautiful girls. We leap to one side to avoid collision, scream a welcome to Flumie, Nickie, Joan and Gerty. The afternoon matinee has just let out and all the show girls are headed for home and bed till the 9 olclock opening. lust as welre being dragged over to Gerty's for a coke and cigarette, weire accosted by one of our old pals, Jackie Adams, who de- mands that we come and watch the kids in his gym class beat the stufiings out of Harry Swartoufs team. But after we reach the field, the rival teams and physical ed. directors start a free-for-all over a play on the 5th yard line, so we sneak off to do a little more snooping. For variationis sake we turn off on one of the side roads and find ourselves on Parambu- lator lane. It is here that all the patient fathers and mothers come to air their precious off- spring. There is lack Van Zandt and linny Arnold, pardon-Jinny Van Zandt, parading little Jacky-a blossoming two-year old, and Soapy , rj ,I x a I - Z. iq Q... who cares for Junior while papa Rayme is 1251.

Page 31 text:

5 , E E 1 A